Memorial Insurgency
i tried to make a day of it, but a restless man knows not where to move himself to make it easier for the energy to translate into a confident action, if only to replicate the strength of the ages that have lived before me in order to supply us with all preconceived knowledge and wisdom from lingering heralds like angels… but merely different angles from this sight of present-day future logged in as futility while humanity troubles with thoughts of the literal even in interpretation of the words and things as they are, so caught up in analyzing the pieces that we have no stable place for terms like past or future in with the measly sum of all parts now pulled separate by the weight of painful differences in attempting to have the right way plan in motion, and so we can easily get so lost in a distracting position of humane goals coming up against the inhumane practices which tend to fill the space with debris and trash adding fuel for a burning funeral of conflict scarring the flesh of those so branded by the fallout from phallic hopes and the dead dreams as they become soured and turn after their makers… the golem made of clay and set in a plausible situation without the caution of human intuition against rain now mocked by the metallic chrome and sheen of the modern age where truth has made rainproof by the destiny it keeps in a focused view, the new body is one lacking flaws that in the organic creates panic in a chain of events producing a number of shocking effects if the human body is not stable for its mindset to endure, and it stakes a claim on the open mention of moody aspirations that might take shape with the coming of the eventful chains which link one to another whether subtle or aspects of the weight withdrawing in the free will it takes to change things as they are into so many other uses for the energy and stability without name… the annals of history purport to show us both errors of our ways and the triumphs of imagination made real by the cruel and foul humans who do the dirty work for the rest of us, again this is a biased perspective to look down upon the whole picture from the ivory towers erected with the purpose of keeping close watch on the lunatics locked in the asylum in order to better manage those subservient bystanders in this caustic drama written as though with nothing but ill will in mind, and still we allow the negativity to suck the marrow from our bones in an attempted wrangling of the details to collaborate an effort to breathe truth and honest compassion back into humanity’s lungs balanced by the nerve to not do as we are told… we are struggling to hang onto our own versions of reality in ways that tangle with and engage other glorious wave-phases in the out there held in for the potential surging that the living crave to savor, and manifest into dreamy creative reflections of what they would choose to believe whether multiple lives all at once stormy with its own mad eye in the center sweeping over genealogical lines born from the tides of trust and lust in the strange simplicity so scary when it strikes the steps to light the path into the fray, this struggle living conflicting lightning as kinetic description or scarification ritual written in this space as a timely visual with rotating appeal from various audiences throughout the years… i try to catch myself thinking down on this arch-apocalypse tangent labelled as canvas revealing all in the dreams and nightmares that drool and crawl, the floor it is moving just as fast as we are Here as the vicious carousel wheel sending the weak of stomach retching with symptoms of spill over the feet, and merely trip along awaiting a turn at that wheel with our hands on our fortunes seeing the need to supersede the system as it stands unjustly united to bully the rest of the this post-modern world under surveillance in a dark future somewhere in the literature… a conspiracy on every page just turning the screws for the day in which the facts in fiction leak out through the words that they say, and we sit neutralized and floating free from this actualized thing as it is when it stares in to drift off at the screen’s edge agape like an ape, mouth wide as it grins free from any shame…
Thanks, khet.
Posted by :\_khet on May 28th, 2012 in blogging, i for Ipseity..., m for Manque.., my art & dreams, rants & raves, world at large. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.